


Temptation

by Lymphadei



Category: Atonement (2007), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Dark, Introspection, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Read the tags!, Underage Rape/Non-con, dark!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4291749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lymphadei/pseuds/Lymphadei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be clear, Sherlock Holmes was no deviant. He'd simply fallen in love with someone much younger than himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temptation

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah, this is a pretty dark one, guys. I watched Atonement the other night, and since then, I haven't been able to get this out of my head. I was trying to capture the creepiness of Benedict Cumberbatch's character, Paul Marshall, so he's pretty twisted in this. Thankfully for my psych, it's only a short little one-shot. Obviously, there will be some things that are different here as well, than in the book, to match our characters and the time the story takes place.
> 
> READERS BEWARE: There are triggers in this. If you're squeamish reading non-con and a much younger John, then this isn't your cup of tea. If you've seen Atonement and these things are not a trigger for you, feel free to read.
> 
> YOU HAVE ALL BEEN WARNED, SO DON'T FLAME ME IF YOU'RE SURPRISED!
> 
> Also, SPOILER ALERT! If you plan on watching the movie and don't want it to be ruined for you, don't read.
> 
> Disclaimer: All rights to Atonement go to Ian McEwan, and Sherlock (BBC) to ACD and Steven Moffat & co.

To be clear, Sherlock Holmes was no deviant. He'd simply fallen in love with someone much younger than himself.

He harbored no illusions as to the wrongness of his actions. Sherlock knew what he did, if ever accused of such an act, could grant him a long stint in prison, but oh, how he'd wanted.

He remembers that fateful summer day in the year 1935, laying eyes on John Watson for the first time. Sherlock had always been an acquaintance of the Hooper family, as well as close friends with the eldest Hooper brother, Tobias. The Hooper household was large enough to sustain the swell of visitors it accomodated that year. 

The boy had been 15, a maternal cousin of the affluent family, and also in residence during Sherlock's stay. He'd been so young and ripe, though it was his quick-witted tongue and those awfully blue eyes that left Sherlock craving. That body on the cusp of manhood, yet John's face still held that cherubic innocence that set Sherlock's loins aflutter. 

Sherlock remembers watching him outside the door to his bedroom, scolding his younger sister, Harriet, for her careless words about their parent's subsequent divorce. John was so young, yet starving for attention, working his way through a rebellious streak teenagers often came into when they were tired of being treated like children. 

Everything in him wanted to taste and touch, to feel that little body beneath his hands. John's pink cheeks and pubescent body were like a siren song to Sherlock. Why should he deny himself this temptation?

Sherlock remembered stepping into the room, unable to take his eyes off the blond haired minx on the other side of it. The sunlight was spilling through the windows, setting fire to the crown of golden strands. John looked like an angel.

Harriet was positively dull and naught but a fly in his ear. He indulged the little girl, pretending to listen, but John kept capturing his attention. The little hellion was flirting with him, then, staring coquettishly from under thick, dark lashes. 

Sherlock compliments John on his trousers, and the boy is thrilled that he is being treated like an adult. His mouth is moving, and Sherlock is his captive audience, hanging onto every word from that lovely mouth. 

Harriet was nattering on by then, but Sherlock's heated stare was fixated on his lush little demon, tempting him in every way. John matched his look with one of his own, not as innocent as one would think him be. 

Sherlock _wanted_. 

He remembered the chocolate in his pocket, and tossed it to the boy in lieu of the little girl sulking on the other side of the room, ignoring their interaction. Sherlock is telling John about how his chocolate will be in the kitbag of every British soldier, but none of that matters, because all he wants to see are those lips wrapped round something solid.

When John catches the candy, he eyes it curiously, then places his lips round it, but Sherlock is impatient, because all he wants is for John to, "Bite it, you have to _bite it_." 

The words come out as a low growl. Sherlock is aroused and ready to stake his claim, but the little girl is still there, and it's hardly the place or time. 

\---

Sherlock finds the perfect opportunity to isolate John when the news comes that Harriet has run off, angry with her older brother and throwing a fit that will be forgotten by the end of the night.

Everyone is flustered and panicking, speaking excitedly across the table with one another, gearing up to form a search party for the little girl.

A more brilliant idea couldn't have come to Sherlock in that moment. Outside it was dark; no one would be able to see them together.

He finds John searching for his sister near a grotto, flashlight in hand as he scours the area, though he doesn't see Sherlock's approach. 

His fingers are already tingling with the need to feel tender, young skin beneath them. Sherlock pushes John down to the ground from behind, hearing the younger male grunt in pain and surprise. It invigorates him, makes Sherlock crave for more of those breathless noises.

He pulls those scandalising trousers down to reveal a smooth, blushing derrière that makes his cock stand. 

Before he realizes, Sherlock has his hand around the boy's mouth and his prick is pushing in. It is ecstasy and pain, and sweet, sweet glory. The chafing of their dry union is uncomfortable, but he needs into John. It will have to suffice.

John is gasping uncomfortably and the muffled cries of pain filter through his hands; Sherlock can feel the trickle of wetness on his hands. Sherlock wishes he could see flushed cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, but he's _inside_ , now, and that's all that really matters in the grand scheme of things. It's marvelous and hateful, because Sherlock knows this cannot last, but John is so snug and tight around him, and his flesh so yielding beneath Sherlock's larger hands.

Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light, and Sherlock is pulling out, scrambling to get away and out of sight. It's self-preservation and cowardice, because Sherlock would rather see John another day, than be caught in flagrante delicto with a minor, and sentenced to several years in prison. 

The flashlight fumbles and catches on the shocked face of Molly Hooper. Fortunately, she is blinded by the light, and Sherlock uses this temporary distraction to his advantage and flees on swift feet.

It's a shame to leave John in such a state, but he knows that Molly will call for help, and Sherlock cannot be there when it comes.

\---

John is carried into the house by Tobias, and taken to one of the multitude of rooms. Sherlock imagines the doctor is looking over John with pity-filled eyes, as are the others in the house. Sherlock lounges on the couch as the authorities conduct their investigation, overexerted and falling quickly into a light doze.

It doesn't last long. The house is filled with a raucous crowd of people, all alarmed by the series of events, and the atmosphere is cluttered with tension. Sherlock is not worried that he will be caught, or else he would have fled the moment he'd been found out.

Sherlock didn't have to wait long. Molly Hooper was a young girl, foolish and blinded by petty sentiments, such as jealousy. She turned an accusing finger on one Greg Lestrade, the secret lover of her sister, Margot, and the housekeeper's son. 

Molly is clever, and finds an incriminating note that merely cements her accusation against Lestrade, and never once does John object. John was not an idiot by any means. He'd known who was behind it all along, but like the good little boy Sherlock knew he was, he'd kept their little secret, and played the game.

All of it was very childish and beneath him, and Sherlock didn't bother coming forth. Lestrade was a good man, but not worth the trouble. Besides, it was a prime opportunity to finish what he'd started with John.

\---

With the divorce between John's parent's final, there wasn't much argument when Sherlock brought John back to London as his charge. When John came of age, he didn't leave, and never uttered a word of what happened that night, nor the many thereafter. 

In the end, Sherlock got to keep his precious, little treat. 

Molly Hooper eventually spoke the truth of that night, but by then, anything that came from her lips couldn't be trusted; not that anyone would believe her. Sherlock was an upstanding citizen of London, and not a word could be spoken against him. Just the idea that he could ever do something so appalling as inappropriately touching a child, just couldn't be believed. 

The truth of it was that John would never speak against him, given the chance.

And the rest, as they say, was history.


End file.
